


Poprocks and Star Trek Marathons

by andchaos



Series: Destiel Oneshots (for a series of tumblr prompts) [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-17
Updated: 2013-12-17
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:07:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is pretty sure his brother's in love with Cas. In which Dean's denying it and Sam gets to witness some...unfortunate events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poprocks and Star Trek Marathons

**Author's Note:**

> First work in a series of tumblr prompts I received for a bunch of Destiel oneshots. I'm just compiling them at this point, good or bad (and they're a little bit of both).
> 
> Tumblr prompt:  
> "How about Sammy is anticipating, just waiting for Cas and Dean to hook up. One night he goes out, only to come home with the two exactly how he expected."

Sam sighed loudly and looked up from his laptop, fingers clenching on the top, dancing idly against the back as he glared pointedly across the room at his brother and the fallen angel. The first time he’d seen Cas in three months and he was spending all his time with his fucking _brother_. Of course. He hadn’t even gotten the hug that Dean had been granted (although, to be fair, Cas had just stood there with his arms twitching awkwardly while _Dean_ hugged _him_ ). Not that he cared _too_ much, but now he was drawing a line. It was really fucking annoying to be the only one researching the case for which Dean had insisted they drive up, especially considering how hard he’d tried to prevent Sam from coming.

 

“You just want your boyfriend all to yourself,” Sam had teased, causing Dean to flush furiously red and turn Metallica up so loud that Sam’s ears had rung for two hours.

 

Sam cleared his throat presently, putting on his best bitchface. “Are you two planning on helping, or are you going to sit on each others’ laps watching Star Trek all night?”

 

“I’m _educating_ him!” Dean protested loudly at the same time that Castiel intoned seriously, “We’re not sitting on each others’ laps.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, we’ve got some psycho killer on the loose that apparently loves the…‘clavicles and hipbones of young females aged fifteen to twenty,’” he read off his screen.

 

Dean shrugged, even as he grabbed the neck of his beer and sauntered over to the seat opposite. Sam tried _really_ hard not to notice how low Castiel’s gaze was lingering as Dean walked. “So? We’re out of leads, and you heard the witnesses. _Both_ parents were home at the time of both murders. The girls didn’t even scream.”

 

“Or the girls didn’t have _time_ to scream. So a little less Spock, a little more internet.” He also tried really, really hard not to notice how Castiel was _still staring at his brother’s ass_. He took a deep breath and returned to his computer. “You too, Cas,” he added, not daring to glance up, but a few seconds later he felt another body sit beside him. He exhaled heavily.

 

They managed a solid ten minutes of research, the Winchesters on their respective laptops and Castiel studying the newspaper for anything they might have missed. A good, quality ten minutes that allowed Sam another half-dozen notes before he felt something pressing insistently against his foot and he tensed immediately 

 

“Sorry, Sammy,” mumbled Dean, and the pressure withdrew; when Sam looked up incredulously, Dean _seemed_ to be concentrating on whatever he was reading, but his eyes weren’t moving and after another few seconds Castiel twitched beside him. Sam raised an eyebrow.

 

Jesus _Christ_. Were they playing fucking footsy or some shit?

 

His gaze flicked from Castiel to Dean and back; Castiel was still reading the paper, his lips moving silently as he did, but Dean had evidently gotten bored and given up all pretense. He was just staring at Castiel’s profile like he had nothing better to do in the world.

 

Seriously, they were in the middle of a fucking case! People were dying!

 

“Hey Cas,” he ventured, struggling to keep his voice light, “Could you run and get us some sodas? I’ll take a coke.”

 

Dean was watching him suspiciously. “ Same. But none of that diet shit.”

 

Castiel looked between them, obviously aware he was missing something but unsure what. After a few seconds, he nodded jerkily and got to his feet. “Of course. I’ll return quickly.”

 

“Take a knife!” Dean called as Castiel left. He huffed, tipping his chair back and stretching like he’d been at this for days and not on a fucking date with an ex-angel for the past three hours. “What the hell was that about?”

 

Sam’s face hardened again. “Are you serious? What the hell was _that_?”

 

“What was what?” Oh yeah, like he had any right to be defensive when Sam had been playing third wheel all day.

 

“ _That_ ,” he gasped incredulously, “That—that—staring at Cas like he’s the Mona Lisa or something!”

 

Dean’s face colored. “What? I wasn’t staring at Cas!”

 

“Oh, yeah, right. Just like you weren’t trying to play footsy under the table with him just now?”

 

“I don’t—Are you—I’m not in love with Cas, dude!”

 

Sam’s eyebrows jumped halfway up his forehead. “Who mentioned the L-word? You don’t…Do you actually want Cas, man?”

 

Dean’s sputtered incoherently for a few more seconds, but then Castiel had returned, stoically handing them their beverages before taking his own seat. He popped open the tab on his drink, sniffing it suspiciously, before taking a pull. His face scrunched immediately. Sam snickered.

 

“You should try it with pop rocks,” said Dean, whose face was still extremely red.

 

“Stop trying to kill him,” muttered Sam.

 

“How do I—Dean—Make it stop,” complained Castiel, and Sam bit his lip to keep from laughing.

 

Dean chuckled remorselessly, leaning over to grab the can from his friend, fingers lingering too long before pulling back. “Stop drinking it, man!”

 

And then Dean looked up and Castiel was staring at him, and Dean was staring right back, and Sam had seen these matches go on for longer than a round with a demon, so—

 

“I’m going to see if the library’s still open,” he announced, snapping his laptop shut and standing quickly. Dean finally broke away to gape at him, but Castiel was still watching Dean intently. Sam shook his head minutely at his brother and rushed for the door, grabbing the Impala’s keys off the hook as he went.

 

What the _fuck_. He started the car and backed down the road. He knew full well that the library was closed and took the turn towards town, pulling in front of the local ice cream shop. If his brother was going to have wild eye-sex with a fallen angel all night, he was going to get a damn milkshake. At least he’d be almost happy then, stuck in a motel room with enough sexual tension to send them all to Purgatory if it somehow imploded. Plus this would pass the time enough for him to have plausibly checked the library’s hours.

 

Still, he could only dawdle so much, even after he stopped by the supermarket to pick up a pie for Dean as an apology for accusing him of being in love with a dude. He sighed as he restarted the engine, seriously dreading returning. Still, he fixed on the least disgusted face he could manage as he picked up the box of apple pie and grabbed his milkshake, kicking the Impala’s door shut (Dean was going to fucking kill him later if that left a footprint).

 

He jangled the keys loudly as he stepped through the door, announcing loudly, “Guess who remembered the pie?”

 

Except they weren’t at the table. And he wanted to scrub his brain out with bleach when his eyes tracked them to the wall next to the television, where Dean was pressed really, _really_ close to Castiel, whose hands had disappeared under Dean’s multiple layers of clothing and who was making this noise that made Sam wish there were a way to vomit up the contents of one’s brains.

 

Dean pulled away quickly, tripping over the leg that Castiel had between his thighs (oh my _god_ ), his hands untangling themselves from Cas’s hoodie and hair. Castiel’s eyes found the new arrival, and even though Dean was currently focused on the keys, milkshake, and pie that had all dropped and splattered on the floor, Sam was pretty sure it was because Dean was contemplating never meeting his eyes ever again. Not that he’d be sorry about it.

 

“I fucking knew it!” Sam shouted, and Dean turned, if possible, even redder. Meanwhile, Castiel had gone completely white, and Sam was mildly concerned that he was going to faint.

 

“I’m going to kill myself,” Dean groaned, collapsing onto the bed.

 

“Hello, Sam,” said Castiel, far too seriously, far too wrecked, and suddenly Sam felt his stomach turning again, an emotion that his brother was _very obviously_ not experiencing if the way his eyes flicked back to Castiel at the sound of his overly-gravelly voice was any indication. “Was the library open?”

 

Sam was a little happy for his brother, yeah, but mostly he still kind of wanted to puke. God, though, he currently had enough ammo to use against his brother for the rest of eternity, so maybe they were even. Certainly, neither Castiel nor Dean was going to hear anything but “I knew it” for the next ten years, at least.


End file.
